


Intoxicant

by redsilklino



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: (Himself), (I guess in that sense), A few Hyungsung moments, A threesome between Hyungsunglix, Almost everyone fucks him or has a thing with him once, And Changjin, Choking, Exhibitionism, Hwang Hyunjin-centric, M/M, Mention of Minsung, Self-Discovery, Spanking, Strength Kink, Voyeurism, mentions of Seungchan as a couple, mentions of bad comments he received for his dancing (kind of emotional, sensual scenario overall, turned on by being desired for so many people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22159702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsilklino/pseuds/redsilklino
Summary: I suck at sumaries and titles, but here we go:Hwang Hyunjin is alone one night at the dance practice room of the company when he starts to feel turned on by his own reflection on the mirrors, his dancing skills and facial expressions. Which leads him to have some fun time alone, or not as alone as he might have thought at first.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Kim Seungmin, Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin & Seo Changbin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 172





	Intoxicant

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so I apologize for the gramatical mistakes you will probably see even though I have re-read it like a thousand times. This is kind of long and detailed with almost no dialogue, so it might not be everyone's taste :/ but it's okey. 
> 
> I have never written anything in English this long lasjdlaskjda it was kind of difficult but an interesting challenge as a writer. I hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it, especially when I got dragged by the idea of Hyunjin being with a few of his bandmates because he is that irresistible XD
> 
> Also, please tell me if I forgot to tag something or if I tagged something wrong, since it's the first time I publish here :)
> 
> And follow me on twitter if you are interested in reading more stuff (shorter and updates about what Ia am writing atm): my @ is 3rchxgods <3

Hyunjin always practiced his facial expressions at night, when almost everyone in the company decided to go back to their respective dorms. He liked the darkness, the silence because it always helped him concentrate better on the music and on his body, the way it felt, heavy or light, the way every muscle screamed in pain when he stretched, the way his clothes ended up wet, filthy and his hair falling from his bucket hats in unattractive ways according to himself. He wanted to be perfect. He wanted to make everyone proud of him, of how much he improved in those past months. He wanted to be light with every sequence, like a feather, to feel like water, fluid, transparent, vulnerable but strong in unexpected ways. 

  
So he always practiced, with the hate comments in mind, with those “he is just a pretty face”, “he doesn’t feel like a dancer”, among others. And it worked. Endless nights of pain, of falls and tears, of shouts, fights with the other members and himself, with his demons… all of those nights dragged him to that moment. To _this_ moment. 

  
He felt heavenly. He couldn’t take his eyes off himself, he was awe-stopping, somehow, and the realization of his own sexiness was like a pure wave of fire, which flew all over his organism in seconds. Hot. Hot. Hot. He felt _hot_. In each and every sense of the word. The temperature was almost unbearable, the mirrors were foggy and some water drops seemed to also dance in those surfaces, following the way the boy’s body danced. Like water. 

  
The t-shirt stuck to his skin, but he couldn’t care less. His pink plump lips were swollen, for the amount of times he bit and lick them in the past hours, thirsty, frustrated in many senses. With his performances, with his attitude, but on top of that, with his own body. Because for the first time in his life, he believed all those comments that people wrote online about him being breath taking, of all the things they wanted to do to him, and things they wanted to get done by him. And he wanted them all _so bad._

  
The instrumental music flooded the dance studio like a natural disaster, powerful, unstoppable; and surrounded the boy with every note that fell like cold white snow against his fragile skin. He shivered, although he was warm, and for a few seconds he let himself taste that feeling of being like a hurricane or a tsunami. _Intoxicant. Violent. Dangerous._

  
_Hot._

  
His hands travelled through his body, touching skin, clothes, sweat, trying to grab more, to grasp that sensation of feeling light headed. His breath got caught in his throat when his right hand reached his neck, tracing the pattern of the veins, bloated by the physical exercises and groans he delivered in raspy whispers from time to time. He saw how Chan sometimes would choke jokingly Seungmin at the dorms, and how the boy would immediately stop doing whatever he was doing to look at him, with one of those dead stares of his, as if he was warning the older, speaking to him through muted words that only they could comprehend. How Chan would smirk, alluring, cryptic, before actually closing the distance between their bodies and licking his heart shaped lips, knowing so damn well that Minnie couldn’t help himself and follow the movement of his tongue with his dear-like eyes, desiring to feel it in every inch of his body. How Seungmin would moan, softly, in a deep voice, almost like a groan of annoyance, when Chan tightened his grip around his neck, temporary lessening his lung’s capacity to get more oxygen, to even form words properly, while something in Seungmin’s dark eyes lightened, something wild and primal. Something that had always left Hyunjin wondering what would happen next, who would win that control fight, and on top of that, why Seungmin never hit him if he did not like it. 

  
Until Hyunjin realized that it was not that Seungmin hated it, in fact he loved it, but it frustrated him the fact that Chan liked to perform that act of dominance in front of everyone, in public spaces, while doing lives with thousands of fans watching, risking it all just to humiliate him, to make him feel small, powerless for a few seconds (a small victory for such a high price). Because Seungmin’s body never failed to betray him, growing a painful erection almost instantly, that unfortunately would not go unnoticed whenever he had to wear crop tops.

  
That’s why Seungmin liked to wear big hoodies, that’s how the rest of the members were able to confirm the thing that was going on in between those two. That’s how Hyunjin started to search for it on the internet and try it himself on his body while he jerked off. And then he could completely understand why Seungmin never refused the touch although his responsible side pushed him to do so. Because it felt unbelievable magnificent. It felt as if he was flying, far away from there. It felt, _exhilarating_. Exciting. The fear, the pleasure, all made him cum in seconds when he first tried it. And spread in his own bed, dirty from his fluids, heavy breaths and eyelashes fluttering, he smiled. A kind of wicked smile that sent shivers through his body. He _loved_ it and he could only imagine how it must feel done by someone like Chan, who had such an attractive control of the situations, who knew exactly what to do at any moment. Someone who had irresistible veiny hands, decorated with some painful bruises on the knuckles that made people wonder why and how did they ended up here, eliciting their lustful imaginations with thousands of incorrect but exciting images. Did he fight someone? Did he overpowered someone? Is he strong enough to fill my strength kink? Does he like the pain, inflicting and feeling it? Does he take pleasure into taking things roughly, into ruining and edging someone?

  
He knew about those kind of thoughts, because he had read them online by mistake. He once wanted to see people’s opinions on his new outfits and facial expressions, which wanted to resemble a more animalistic side of himself. But all he found was desires, fantasies, unimaginable before that now hound him at the worst moments. Words floating in the air, apparently light, but with so many heavy interpretations and ideas that astonished him at first, but soon started to turn him on. 

  
Because it felt so good to be desired by thousands of people. Because it felt so good to see the power he could have on them with just one look, one exquisite and tempting look. Sharp eyes, mysterious smirk, dainty hands decorated with expensive jewellery, long and ready-to-be-sucked fingers, exposed skin of the neck, big thighs and graceful figure despite his amusing height.

  
He could just smile, and all of them could scream desperately, eagerly, to see more, to _feel_ more even though none of them could touch him. Like some kind of God or deity figure that was meant to be admired and worshiped from a distance, and never touched by their dirty mundane hands. 

  
The mere thought caused his breath to get caught upon his throat for a few seconds. His fingers pressed against his wet neck, hair falling in many directions, clothes so glued to his skin that he could nearly trace with his eyes every curve of his body, every delicious muscle, clenching and unclenching with the elegant movements under the t-shirt and the pants. Arousal flooded his body, in an invasive way like waves from a terrible storm, and hit him, hit him, _hit him_ with so much force that when the music stopped, his knees, weaker than ever, failed him and he fell to the ground drowsy and energetic at the same time. He heard a taint buzz that sent vibrations all over his organism from his head to his toes, which moved on its own, alive, excited. And he felt also pain erupting from his exhausted muscles and slightly damaged knees, but he liked it. He always loved that feeling of weariness that came with practicing or working out for hours. He felt complete and accomplished. He felt far away from reality, from that practice room, from the stress and doubts that came with their performances. Hyunjin could only think about _desire_ and _lustful want._

  
As if he was in a fever dream, Hyunjin crawled to the other side of the room, until the back of his head hit the refreshing cold wall. He did not bother to turn down the volume of the instrumental song that was blasting through the stereo, nor did he try to take a glimpse of the outside of the room. He knew he was alone because currently the clock hit 4.30 am on the computer’s screen. So he took his sweet time, grabbing the bottle of water half-emptied to hydrate himself. His hands were shaking from anticipation and tiredness, and the object felt much heavier than before in his right hand, frigid drops rolled down the container to his thrilled form. His fingers went numb and the wetness expanded to his wrist and elbow, in a sensual path that sent shivers through his sensitive skin. 

  
He had been needy all day since he woke up from a suggestive dream, but he ignored that sensation, as always, too focused on his schedule and work to properly take care of himself. Hyunjin tried for the longest time to forget that hum which followed him all day, like some kind of parasite, flashing through his mind inappropriate images at the worst moments. He had to excuse himself at lunch and lock himself at the bathroom stalls, eyes shut, lips parted, hands trembling. He did not want to do anything about it, because he was always too vocal, too loud, but the idea of getting caught only made the painful erection on his briefs grow harder. Hyunjin felt so frustrated and conflicted, and for what it seemed to be hours, he just stayed there, resting against the dirty door, heavy breathing and angry tears falling from his eyes while he tried to shut his mind down and calm his sexually frustrated young adult hormones that were playing awful tricks with him.

  
However, he was alone right now. And the silence felt so heavy and tempting in contrast with the dorms full of the other eight boys who would hear him if he wanted to do anything. He was almost caught once by Jisung on the old dorms, at 5 am, and ashamed, they both played it off, as if anything haven’t happened and Jisung didn’t see his friend with two fingers rocking hard inside his asshole. Neither spoke to each other the other day. Jisung too worried that the other noticed how turned on he got by the image. Hyunjin too concerned about Jisung thinking poorly of him after setting aside their differences and constant fights. 

  
Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly for many people, three days later they both found themselves alone at the dorms, face to face, shame and lust, too awkward too speak, too excited to run away. Nobody was there to hear them or scold them about it. To know how they felt or what they actually did in the two hours that followed that encounter and how that moment secured their bond and their trust in each other. And nobody asked why Hyunjin’s low waist and chest was covered in hickeys or why Jisung’s back had red and vivid marks of nails, when they got changed to their pyjamas that night, although Chan gave them a concerned look, as if we has asking with his small eyes what got to them to actually release now that sexual tension that drowned them for years. 

  
Truth was that he did not know why at that exact moment they ended up crashing into Jisung’s bed (because his room was bigger only living there the boy itself and the youngest), or why their hands roamed fervently along each other’s bodies, tugging hair with such a force that amazed the both of them. As if they were waiting for that bottle in which they trapped their feelings, to actually explode in a thousand pieces even though the fragments could cut them and break them apart, so tortuously slow. As if some unexpected and quiet part of themselves had been holding back for so long that now that they had the opportunity to let go freely, they could not stay put far away from the other. As if some major force dragged them closer and closer after that encounter, until their lips and hips meet at an unrivalled pace and everything blew up. 

  
Their whole worlds crashing.

  
They messed around after that night for a couple of months. Over and over again. Although if questioned about it, both lied _frankly_ saying that it was a one-time hook up because they “were too horny and distraught with work”, whereas, in reality, the two were too entitled and proud to accept the natural chemistry that erupted from their fights and did not transform into a peaceful friendship, but a passionate and inexplicable one that even they couldn’t comprehend.

  
In spite of the fact that the blowjobs truly made them bond intensely through the endless nights on the hotel rooms due to jet lag, the thing that Jisung and Minho had going on since they met, shattered and crushed the “friends with benefits” kind of dynamic they were able to set without even speaking. If they were horny and too lazy to deal with it on their own, they would just have to search for the other and move their bratty ass of the couch to the bed, which was interesting because Hyunjin had never had to deal with anyone as bratty as himself and he got plenty of times torn between wanting to choke to death the boy that was getting on his nerves, or keep on smirking to make him lose his mind while he blew him off deliciously, because he knew how much power he had while his mouth was engaged in those activities. As if the way Jisung squirmed under his touch, moaning and whimpering in a high pitched and uncontrolled voice, did not give him away despite his efforts of acting all tough and in charge. But Hyunjin couldn’t take that much pride on it, because he was such a sucker for sucking the other boy’s dick or his little fingers, or anything. He just really liked the feeling of his mouth being filled and pretty plump lips destroyed.

  
And that left him here, at an unprecedented hour, long fingers travelling through his collarbones and hip bone, teasing himself while his thin but long cock leaked on his boxers creating a wet spot while the music still made him feel far away, too caught in a fantasy. He imagined himself on a chair in the centre of a stadium full of people, salivating, dying for his touch, for anything than he gave them. Lights on him, eyes on him. Rain on him, making his skin bright as an angel. 

  
A sinful angel. 

  
They would not be able to look away, to blink, too worried about losing a glimpse of his delicate skin being exposed just right above their eyes. They would scream for him. They would even _cum_ for him if he asked for it. He had that much power. And he _absolutely loved it._

  
He couldn’t have imagined three years ago that he would find himself in that situation right now, looking at himself through the mirror with dark expanded pupils, hungry, fervidly. So full of himself and so turned on by himself. Because he always hated his lanky body, his extremely long legs and delicate figure that made his dancing (or anything at some point) awkward. He hated his facial expressions, “too dramatic”, “too cold”, “too sulky”, and “too exaggerated”. However, now, the sound of all those comments and criticisms from the other trainees seemed so far away in his memories, like a mere gust of wind, powerless, pathetic. Nothing. 

  
Now, they meant nothing.

  
Some water drops were falling from his chin after drinking, creating an invisible path on his neck and collarbones on their descent journey. It remind him of the cum stains that would splatter on his face whenever he was with Jisung, because the boy was always a mess and liked it dirty, and honestly, Hyunjin started to love it as well. To love how he took away Jisung’s breathe with just one look. To love how it feels to be one’s “pretty cum slut”, especially, if moaned with a strained (deep as hell) voice and a cute broken accent for that one time Felix engaged on their activities and he couldn’t form proper sentences in neither of both languages he spoke for how exceptionally good they were ruining him and converting him on a whimpering mess. 

  
Hyunjin smirked enticing to his reflection, moaning pornographically when his hand finally reached the waistband of his pants and touched the erection through the clothes. _Oh God, it felt so good. So fucking good_. He had been waiting to do that for so long that when his fingers played with the tip of his cock, rubbing against the fabric with circle motions, more pre-cum coated the cloth and a high-pitched groan escaped from his lips. His hips bucked against air, wanting more, _needing_ much more than that. The reflection on the other side of the room looked mouth-watering, so fucked out just from one touch, so ready to be ruined, that a stream of fire rushed through his veins.

  
“Yes-s” he pronounced without breath, hand forgetting about the clothes and finally reaching for his angrily red cock. He was big, he knew that and took pride on it every time his bandmates looked surprised when they saw each other naked. The guy on the mirror looked smug and Hyunjin wanted to smack him, to make that over confident smile disappear from his lips, so he moved his hand along the shaft slowly, spreading his own fluids to not fuck himself raw as other times. He was too sensitive already and he definitely couldn’t bear to drag the pleasurable sensation for any longer. The veins on his neck swelled when the cried pleading uncoherent words, picking a pace while his other hand sunk nails on fair skin, press the sides of his neck and played with his nipples. His hips moved on its own, too drown by the ecstasy to actually stop and edge himself a little bit as always. Wet noises echoed through the practice room, his hole clenching in a failed attempt to feel something because he missed the sensation of being full, of a dick pounding inside of him, hard, fast, without taking a break, destroying his prostate with each trust.

  
He needed more, much more although he felt exhausted and looked blissfully broken. The hard slap made his skin burn in pain, and a scream erupted from his pretty lips. The shape of his own hand on the sensitive skin of his thighs now that he somehow got rid of his pants and briefs. He did not care about getting caught at that point. The cameras on the practice room were damaged a few days ago by mistake, so the only possibility left was that someone would come, concerned by the noises, but it was so minimal, so unrealistic that he did not think about it, spreading his legs open, hitting himself again with enough force to leave marks, to the point of breaking, hand trembling on his dick. Still, the mere though brought him closer to his release than he expected, so he obliged himself to stop for a few seconds. His heart was beating so fast, he could feel it on his temples and it almost every part of his body. Hyunjin could also taste the familiar metallic savour of blood on his mouth. He bit his lips too hard and now he had a cut. 

  
Another slap and his whole body winced forward, like a useless doll. He was so riled up that when he sucked his own fingers (the ones that were pinching on his nipples before), saliva also coated his chin in a dirty and messy way, but he did not care, he needed something inside of him. He knew he could take them because he actually fingered himself the night before a little on the shower until he was disrupted by the apparition of Seungmin on the bathroom, just to bother him again. And precisely, the first finger entered his hole without much difficulty. He closed his eyes, letting himself taste the sensation for a few seconds while his body got used to the intromission of his second finger almost instantly. It burned a little, but he could take it. Then he started to move them, mimicking a scissors motion while his other hand lazily went back to his cock. Hyunjin tried to avoid touching his prostate, just allowing himself to brush against it from time to time because he loved to be teased. 

  
Tears from pleasure started to fall his eyes. His vision was too blurry when he opened them again but not enough to overlook a movement that caught his attention. 

  
Someone was looking at him through the door. There was a little glass panel that allowed the people outside to see if the room was being used, and Hyunjin was certain that he saw a familiar shadow. His gaze focused on the immobile form and while the tears made the task of identifying the human behind it more difficult, the realization of knowing too well the shape of those sharp eyes and small face, hit him like a truck. 

  
All the pleasure united on the pit of his stomach, building up a pace that made him jerk himself faster and harder all while not breaking eye contact at any moment. He wanted _him_ to see. To see him cumming, to see him breaking apart like in a wet dream. His mouth fell open, profanities forming unintelligible one after the other and in between, _his_ name. Clearly. Loudly. For him and anyone else to hear, to enjoy.

  
“Changbin” it felt dirty, saying the name of one of his best friends. Different from the way he usually moaned Jisung’s name or even Felix’s when they had that threesome. Maybe because it was Changbin, his best friend since many years ago. Or maybe, it was because he never expected to cum right in front of him without actually speaking about it before. Or because he, more than once, had fantasied about his strong arms picking him up without much difficulty although he was much tinier. It were just fantasies, that made him felt guilty at first, but not anymore, especially now.

  
His body collapsed on the floor, sweat and cum getting dry on his skin, creating a ticklish feeling that made his head feel light. He was exhausted, but the adrenaline and hormones were still racing through his organism uncontrollably. 

  
Then, he smiled. Not an innocent kind of smile. Not a wicked one as well. He just smiled, as if something about the whole situation was hilarious, and licked his dry lips slowly. His tongue felt heavy and salty because of sweat against the sensitive skin of his red lips that Changbin always liked to touch at night for some reason. But he never broke the eye contact, eye fucking him through the mirror’s reflection. Challenging to pick up the courage to open the door and do something about it, because Changbin’s eyes, as well, were wrecking him like a minacious storm. Vibrating. Ready to tear him apart but still waiting for the calm moment to cease.

  
_Do something about it_. He said, mentally, the corners of his mouth ascending at the same pace the doorknob turned around. 

  
_Do_

  
_Something_

  
_About_

  
_It,_

  
_Please._


End file.
